DURING HER MAJESTY'S PLEASURE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLI, Issue 12740, 17 December 1904, Page 3 (Supplement)

DURING HER MAJESTY'S PLEASURE.

BY MISS BRADDON.

CHAPTER Y.

From the hour of that Sunday ; af terii/iou conversation with Reginald Honeybill, Mrs. Dalrymple's thoughts ■ dwelt almost miceasingly upon the mystery of Rosamund's existence. She wax for ever on the alert for new lights, and noticed even- Avoid that fell ■from her brother's lips, in the hope of finding a, clue <<> his secret. Yet of what advantage would it. be to her to; ferret out Rosamund's history, since nothing would alter the girl's position as Sir William's heiress? Such a disposal of his wealth might he an injustice that cried aloud to heaven for vengeance, but William Raysou had made his own fortune, and would choose his own heir.

. Mrs. Dalrymple prided herself upon being a good ehurchwoman, went to church twice on Sundays, never missed a saint's day, and attended early matins all the week. Site had been brought up in an atmosphere of evangelical piety, by parents from whose narrow views William Rayson early broke away, and threw in his lot with the scientists at a time when Darwin's name was a sound of horror to people of his parents' way of thinking. liven Clara Rayson' narrower mind had wearied of the home searching, and after her marriage, on finding her-, self a free agent, with a husband of no religion, she became an Anglican of the Anglicans, learned in forms and ceremonies, but with a mind that had never been illumined with one ray of light- from the inner sanctuary of the Temple. She was one of a large body of Englishwomen with whom early hours and churchgoing constitute the beginning and end of Christianity; and it had never occurred to her that her feelings with regard to her brother and her brother's child were to the last degree unchristian. She was a weak, shallow-brained woman, soured by the disappointments and difficulties of her married life, and with one absorbing passion, her love for her children.

She suspected that Octavia had something more than a , friendly liking , for Ronald Halstead, and she hated to see the lovers together in their exultant happiness, while her girl was left in the background, the object of no delicate attentions, no exclusive regard. Rosamund was full of affection and kindness for her cousin, and gave herself no triumphant airs in the possession of a devoted lover; hut Rosamund's affection was not enough for Mrs. Dalrymple, who wanted her daughter to be first, not second, in the family circle. .And then she had such an arduous part to play to sympathise with her brother*' delight in his daughter's happiness, to be interested in every detail of Rosamund's expensive trousseau* in the improvements and rearrangements that were to be made in the spacious old house for the young people's comfort, Rosa's new morn-ing-room, which was to be next Ronald's smoking-room; the little blue bedroom, which was to be Ronald's dressing-room; while, in confidential moments, when, she and Sir William were alone, she was expected to chime in with his ideas of future alterations on the upper floor "when minus should be wanted for nurseries. Sir William loved to look forward to those patriarchal days, when the companion of his later life, the creature he loved best on earth, might be the mother of a jovous brood.

" And you needn't, be afraid about your future," he said, after one of these, discussions, patting his sister's hand affectionately. "Be sure things will be made comfortable for you." Comfortable! , The word inspired no confidence. An extra hundred a year, perhaps, Mrs. Dalrymple thought, as a set-off against all the amenities of Tangley Park.

And'."so the summer went by, a season of unclouded bliss,. for Rosamund and her fiance, and the first shadow that fell across love's rosy -path came when- summer was at its ripest, and the sickle was in the corn. It came with the lovers' first"/pari)' ing in'the second week, of August, when: Roland went up to Scotland to shoot with Sir Henry, who for the last ten years had rented a small moor a dozen miles from Perth, and who counted upon having Ronald during some part of the long vacation, the only season when, he had leisure to enjoy his son's society. ' ' ■ This year Ronald had riot wanted to go. Leave Rosa'/ Not for all ; the grouse" that ever flew! • -

"Not for the grouse, Ronnie, but to please your father. Sir Henry would be dreadfully disappointed if "you -were not with him at Braeside." .. * ' "Did my father tell you that?" • "No. it wu,s Maraaii."' . Maman was the endearing name 1 bat Rosa had given Lady llalstead, who had begged to be' called mother. Rosa shrank from giving that name to anyone except to the unremembered mother,' the dreamphantom which sometimes flitted across, her slumbers. "I cannot remember my mother." she faltered, "but I don't think I .could call ■anyone by the name that was hers. Let me call you Maman. dear Lady llalstead. It sounds.just as loving."' Sir Henry was not slow to express himself. ■' "I daresav Rosa thinks me a selfish old beggar for Van ting - Ronald at Braeside, but my holiday would be no holiday without him. You see my shooting ■'* is the smallest tiling in that" line/ anil I have never asked any guns outside my family. 1 have always relied on. Ronald "for company, except when he was on the other side of,the world," he said on.one of the happy Sunday afternoons when the family was collected round the testable in. the garden, with Rosamund , and Oct a via to pour tea and give employment,to- Wilfred and Ronald and a couple of cavalrymen from Hampton Court in waiting upon "their elders; Lady Halstead in, mauve foulard and a mauve chiffon hat, large and lovely, overflowing the biggest of the wicker chairs, and slowly waving a futile black lace fan;. Mrs. Dalrymple neatly dressed in a gown of the kind that dressmakers call ■' material," a something that was neither silk nor wool, in colour a dull slate grey, patterned with spade-aces in . black and whileone of those hideous gowns which such women choose with an unerring preference lor Ihe ugly; Sir Henry in ~ the lightest grey suit his tailor could be persuaded to make for him, and Sic-.William in a slightly darker greyness. "Now, you know you think. me selfish, my dear, repeated Sir Henry, who had brought his chair to the teata'blc. and seated himself at Rosamund's, elbow.' "But you must remember that you can come to Braeside with Ronald nextAugust, and that if your father had been a little, quicker about- the wedding. ; you could have come with him this year. The' house is very .small, but we'd have found room for you two." >■: ••■■.

"It would have been too lovely," said Rosa gaily; "and I count on';being therenext year. Perhaps Ronnie can each me to load the guns, or do something useful. And I don t think you a scrap selfish, Sir Henry, and I should be very angry with Ronald if ; he thought of disappointing you.''' •. "But I do think of it,*' said Ronald hi it bass growl. "The governor can 1 get another gun if he likes." He has lots of pals who.su company suits him as well as mine.'' ■ ' ,' • "Ronald, remember the fifth commandment," said Rosa,! .shaking a teaspoon at him. "Your days' will/'be 'very short"* in the land if you behave like this. He is going to Braeside, .Sir Henry, in good time for the twelfth, and I. am not going to l)e tlie least hit unhappy about it. .Indeed; I shall be glad to' get him out of the way; for I hare been .very casual about my trousseau up to now, and! shall want most, of the, time for" the dressmakers.'' ''■; "My dear Rosa, don't have ioo many gowns," said Lady Halstead, in a. warning voice. *' The worst-dressed' ate the women, with too .many : gowns-. Make them* give, you , the newest tiling': from Paris, and wear .it out in a. month. Twelve walking gowns and six" evening; gowns a year arc enough for any ''reasonable woman." "And the tea, gowns'/"' asked Sit" Henry. Oh, for a child like Rosa a liberty thing for nine or' ten pounds will do,'and that needn't count." "I see that on your ' rational ..lines ft woman might contrive to dress herself decently for a thousand a rear," said Sir William. " -' * "I don't believe*l spend as 'much as that, not on actual clothes," replied Lady HaLstead, with a superb carelessness, ' So. after much light talk, it was-decided that Ronald was to shoot, grouse with hi* father, and when all the Sunday company had gone and Sir William gave Rosalias good-night kiss lie added a word of praise for her unselfishness. , ?•*?':• " Rut I'm afraid. you'll miss your. Ronnie sadly, all the same," lie said.; "Not while I, have you, father,"•".; ■ Yet -in spite of her affection for her father, and the perfect sympathy between them, Rosamund did sorely buss the devoted lover, the strong, cheery-voice, the light-hearted, companion, who had made himself part of her life. . Not; for worlds would she have allowed Iter father to see any sign of low spirits or repining, but her eager delight in Ronald's daily-. letter was enough to show how dearly he was loved, and how much he must be missed.

The first ten days after live parting were spent in drives and walks with Sir William, who deserted his club, declaring thai, all his friends were away, and in shopping ; and dressmaking visits in London, with a concert and a theatre thrown in. And these were clays,of tranquil pleasantness, despite that ever present want of the other person, whose society had become a matter of course. Much as she- might regret Ronald's absence, Rosa could not.be unhappy while she had her father's company, and "those long rambling letters which came : every morning and kept her informed of all that was doing at Braesidc. Boxes of grouse had come also from Sir Henry's moor, but of those Rosamund kept no account. So far the time of Ronald's; absence had been a season of mitigated regret, but a,telegram received at the family breakfast table changed the happy atmosphere of Rosamund's home to duhiess and despondency.'. Sir William's grave countenance as he read the message tiller 1 her with sudden fear. "Oil, father, is there anything "wrong?" she cried. Is it about Ronald—an accident!". '' t . The possibility of gun "accidents had' seldom been" absent from her thoughts since her lover's departure, and now her father's look of grave distress' seemed to announce doom. / ' " No, no, my dear, Ronald is well enough,'' Sir William answered hastily, with his eyes still on the- message.; i v ," > ■"/, "■\' V: " The telegram is not about him—really— really?" Rosa questioned, with ' anxious looks. '

'No, no—nothing to do with him. •- 'No answer," to the servant who stood waiting. Mrs. Dalrymple watched hei brother's countenance almost as earnestly as Rosa. What could it mean? Something very serious, assuredly, for there was grave trouble in that fine "face as Sir William rose from the table and walked slowly out of the room. Was lie deceiving his daughter, Mrs. Dalrymple wondered. ' Had some harm happened to Rosa's lover, which her father wanted to hide from her at first, to put off the evil hour in which he must tell her news that might break her heart? > There had been something in his tone—* touch of carelessness in his answer to his daughter— that disposed Mrs. Dalrymple think the telegram was no message of woe, fox Rosa. But- it brought bad news for Sir.' William. 01 that there could be no doubt. She'took upon herself a sister's privilege and followed him to his library—where she found him .standing with a railway guide in. his hand,' and a body-servant in attendance. "One portmanteau will be enough—yes, and a hat-box," he said, then, turning sharply on. his sister as the/ man left the room, "What do you want, Clara?." • '• I. am afraid, you have had troublesome; news, William." . ' "Nothing that can trouble this house, ft: am going to—to friends in the north." '', ''Don't say to Scotland, William. . Oh,' don't say you've been summoned it Scot-;.' land/' " '•Why not?" • ~

"If anything has happened,to Ronald, it; will break Rosa's heart." '■•;■' " Didn't you hear me say that nothing has happened? 1 am going away—for a week —or possibly longer, and I must ask you and Octavia to do all that affection can do to make Rosa happy. It is hard lines for me to leave her while Ronald is away—but I know how kind you will be. You must do all yotucan to interest her in her trousseau. Take her up to London every ; day if you like: and give her plenty of music, i know I can rely on you.'' „ ' ■ "It would be hard if you couldn't, William." ' : ,/ ' " Yes.send Rosa to me at once." '' ; .':;'■: He took Rosamund into tie garden ana, pacing slowly up and down the lawn, he told her that business of an unexpected and troublesome nature was taking him to the North of England: but there was nothing in the trouble that concerned either Rosamund or himself, or anyone she; knew. So all she had to do was to make herself as happy as she- could during his absence, which -would not last one hour longer than he could help. Her lips troubled, her eyes filled with tears; but as she had tried to be brave -when her lover left her, so she tried to be brave now. Only it was a- worse parting, for the feeling of an unknown trouble spread round her like a, cloud. " You arc net unhappy," father'.''' she asked, anxiously. ' •'.■ * i ' "No,, no, dear; never while all is well with you.'' . • / - "And you are not going into any danger?" ' ' , . , * . ,'' - :-'" - "Danger? An, lam going to travel two or three hundred miles in us much comfort as modern, improvement can ' give mo: • and if you were able to compare the ; style, of travelling with my journeys of folr^y*. years ago you would know how little reason I have to complain. I bear the cart going round. Good-bye, my dearest treasure, and God be with you till we meet again." " He took her in his arms, arid 'kissed her with unwonted fervour. .

"My dear, dear child," he murmured; with a dee]) sigh. ' ' They had been patted before today, bid never for nioro'tlian, two »i" three days at a time, ami at long intervals. Once or twice in a year Sir William had left heme oh. a business journey, a.s he was leaving to-day. and his journey had always been to lire north. ' But his face had never worn- Untroubled look it had to-day, nor had he ever left his daughter without- specifying the time of his return. "V;;' •'■•;.■;■'; ,'■...;

She .stood on the gravel drive while ho took his seat in the cart, and held up her hand to him for a: last good-bye: and it seemed to her as if all the gladness had gone out of her life when the dogcart disappeared at a turn of the avenue. Wilfred, -summoned by a maternal telegram, came to dinner that evening, and devoted himself- to Rosamund, [ making her play 'and : ; sing to him, hanging over the piano, frying to interest, her in. spite of herself -in his talk of books, and plays, and the famous people with whom-he rubbed shoulders in London. and of the last, cause celebrc Jit. for home discussion. She was interested', to a certain degree, giving him half her mind, while the oilier half was travelling painfully oil an unknown journey , l o "the north.'-, with the father she adored. .She had only : once before to-day seen that look of grief and' trouble in (Sir William's face, and that was years ago, when, as a child, she. questioned him about her mother. ...-.- ~..-,-■ .".-- ..: Wilfred came next day. and the next after that, bringing a new- Paderewskiwaltz,.and' new novel, for his cousin, - - "I am not going to leave you three lone lorn women without the protection of a black coat,*' he said, laughingly; , " but I hope you don't all think me a consummate bore for coming every night.'' . ' "Nobody can., expect a mother :to think her son a bore,"Mr*.. Oalrymple said somewhat sourly, . after wailing for Rosamund to protest, . "but perhaps .llosa .considers every young man de crop except Ronald."' '■. " Oh, aunt, bow can you . say .such ,-i thing? And when Wilfred is so clever, and takes so much trouble, lo amuse us." ■ ■ ; ." Worse and worse, Rosamund," said Wilfred ; "that' is the exact description, of abore. Be takes trouble to amuse—-a painstaking dullard, 'whose laborious vivacity gets on everybody's nerves." : , ; : . ' ■ "You know 1 don't mean {hat. think it Very kind of you to fry to fill my father's place while, we are so lonely."' ■ '■:' ■ ■"" - This went on for about-ten days, Wilfred appearing every evening before disinerV.and early -on ■ Saturday afternoon for a. game - at' croquet, which he played well enough to make him worth beating, thought he was greatly inferior. to Ronald at : thiiji and - all games, air: inferiority that vexed him", .'a.si it marked the difference between the young man who had to earn his bread- and ■'the young man who hadn't. ""''-.*' Be spent the whole of Sunday atTaug'eyi arriving in time for the morning service, so as to he able to discuss the rector's ritual-

istic leanings, and the quality of (he new organ. , . •'■ ," (To he continued on Saturday next.) .